Where we stand
by seth 8627
Summary: Terri Spencer, this story was created from your request and is the third 'Regrets' one shot. Times aren't easy at Stalag 13 right now, Hogan is being questioned not only by the Gestapo but also the Allied High Command too. With his right hand man taken out by a severe illness, will one man's soul be lost because of his loyalty.


AN: As per your request Terri, another alternative version of 'Mistakes are made', I'm sorry this has been so long in coming as I found it quite hard to write, you'll find out why hopefully if you read on. Would love your responses even if you don't like it. Seth

* * *

Their Colonel was not quite the same exuberant leader that led them near fearlessly two weeks ago. Bombs may not have actually fallen around the Stalag for the last few months but bombshells had been dropped. A week ago a certain German Major had returned, adamant that this time he had proof that Hogan was indeed the mastermind of the recent shortfalls of the Thousand Year Rich. Determined to take Hogan for 'intensive questioning' he had yet to leave as unbelievably Klink barred all progress. High commanded joined the fray not more than three days ago. With orders for the talented commander to abandon his post and his men.

Attacked on two fronts his closest advisor had been struck down by a severe fever. Leaving Hogan a man short and the radio duty falling on him as a unique code, authorized to him and Kinch alone, was currently in use. The stress was telling. Missions seemed to be fouled up more often than not. All of the men were getting antsy, the world had turned crazy over a very small period of time. Their stabilizing factors were understandably lacking, LeBeau and Newkirk were coping, Carter however, barely managed to hide his over anxious bumbling.

* * *

"Andrew! What the blimmin 'eck were ya thinkin." An agitated Englishman cursed as said man tripped over the latest shipment of explosives.

"Sssorry," The mousy blonde stammered back with no attempt at eye contact. Returning to hiding, tucked away a corner immersed his latest project for his little cousin back home so no one could see the blush rapidly forming on his olive tanned cheeks.

* * *

No one really noticed how little they saw of him these days.

* * *

Hogan sauntered in, his facade up and at half strength.

"Guys, radio room in ten. London has a job for us."

Nods went around in domino fashion at the order. Not broadcasting the bitterness and exhaustion that was weighing everyone down.

* * *

LeBeau stood closet to the Colonel whose calm anger seemed to fire up the little Corporal.

"This is crazy, mon Colonel! There are too many patrols out, we'll be caught for sure."

"Which is why I recommended London to supply us a reconnaissance flyover by a few bombers tomorrow night to get them worried about something else. Carter, could you fix us a small little gift box for that train?"

"Sure thing, it's as easy as pie." The former Lieutenant grinned goofily, no one noticed quite how forced it was.

Hogan smiled at that familiar blunder, it wasn't his old care free smirk as it was anchored with weariness, but it was genuine and reached his eyes. "You're a good man Carter."

"Gosh, I'm just doing my job boy... Ah... Sir."

"Get going, we've only got a few hours to work with." He laughed taking in his fellow American's burning cheeks. Everyone noticed that the smile didn't quite reach his eyes this time.

Taking the advice given, Carter disappeared into the Laboratory that had been built for him a tunnel or two over while the final plans were discussed with the two Corporals.

* * *

"Gov'ner, this plan relies on everything goin' right." Newkirk growled in displeasure.

"Do you have any better ideas? This is the only plan that wouldn't lead Hochstetter straight to us. Even if we don't get the train, we'll get the tracks and if that fails the town is being bombed the night after anyway." Sighing heavily, his mask fell just a little bit more. "Don't tell Kinch, he's beating himself up enough about leaving us short handed as it is and Klink wants me in his sights at all time."

"Mon Colonel, leave while you can." LeBeau whispered, echoing the sentiments of the Generals in England.

'No one can lead possibly fatal missions without respect and trust. I couldn't stand myself if I threw you lot under the bus, how could I get anyone's respect or trust then?' His head shook fiercely, putting on a ruthless smirk. "I'm walking out of that front gate when I leave here."

* * *

Carter's head hung low, lower than the floor and lower than the tunnel system underneath them. The tension in the room had increased ten fold in the last five minutes. The slight margin of error that the bomb could have been delayed by for any number of reason's according to it's creator had now passed. Apparently, so had the patience of a few others.

"Of all the bloody idiotic things!" Newkirk shouted, cursing viciously under his breath. Ranting a whole lot of nonsense.

LeBeau glowered dangerously in the young American's direction. Unable to bring himself to communicate the annoyance at a mistake. Arms crossed, and fists curled, it seemed forgiveness was far from his mind.

Eventually Newkirk had asked the inevitable, did he cause the failure. Carter couldn't lie to them and absolutely confirm that he hadn't, instead he had to say he didn't know if he had.

* * *

"You forgot? How could you just 'forget'?"

"Gee, guys I just can't say I fouled up when I can't remember if I did or not!" Andrew pleaded stubbornly, 'I'm sure I did everything right.'

Reprieve came a second later as the door to Officer's quarters opened. A drawn, tired Kinchloe stepping out, looking fiercely stronger than his weakened frame let on. His racking cough silencing the barrack's occupants.

"Enough, move on. We're a team, we win together and lose together. No one is at fault!"

Kinch's wisdom drew an immediate halt to the bickering. Guiltily all three stared ashen faced at their boots, recalling the tight friendship the unit was supposed to have. Another rib aching splutter from the dark skinned man led to Carter prominently taking swift action to grasp the Sargent's arm and escort him back to the bed he was meant to be recovering in. Aging creases of worry controlling the normally innocent face.

* * *

Taking a seat at the work table in the private room, Carter watched as Kinch collapsed back onto his bed. Painfully distracted by the failure hanging over his head.

"Hey, what happened out there?"

The gentle probing drew little in the way of response, a slight shrug was all that signaled the question being heard.

"Don't let them get to you, everyone's a bit high strung at the moment. You do more than you think Carter..." Another hacking cough interrupted the Black Sargent. "What went wrong?"

"I just can't figure it, I mean all the wiring was done and everything..." The crestfallen man's voice tailed off in uncertainty.

"It may be like last time, one of their lot might have managed to diffuse it. Ignore them Andrew, trust yourself a little more."

That was all he could manage before the next bout started, mercilessly beating his abdomen from the inside out.

* * *

"Okay Kinch," Andrew's voice steeled; conceited by the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind. No feelings were buried by the new assertiveness, he still sought his strong friend's return to the everyday routine without the tentative Mother Hen-ing glances and for some reason he couldn't shake the sense that this goodbye should be on good terms. "Everyone's worryin' about you though... Get better ya hear?"

"I don't like this bed anymore than you do, Carter things happen for a reason. Sometimes it's better not to find out why, but personally, I think someone up their doesn't like Newkirk's late night rendezvous and wanted to get the Colonel out there so he'd give it up for a while." Kinch muttered with a tired, joking smile to his mates retreating form.

"Yeah," Cater scoffed half heartedly. "He gets more action than DuBois does. Night Kinch,"

He received no reply- unless you counted the grunted 'hmf' that the impressionable boyish man heard as he closed the door behind him and turned his back on the men, brothers, family, around him.

* * *

At the departure of hurricane Klink and Ice Queen's conscience (Hoschstetter) things looked on the up. Hogan had some of his sauntering charm back and Newkirk and LeBeau were yet to bicker like the adolescent rivals they could so easily portray. Carter was unusually focused but had, to all appearances, seemed his happy-go-lucky self. Kinch even seemed to be on the mend as his heaving coughs had subsided dramatically overnight to everyone's immense joy.

* * *

The tunnels weren't particularly busy during the day, much to Carter's relief. His unshakable sense of duty told him that he had to fix his mistake. It drove him and compelled to work harder and faster. The men he came into contact here were the first in a long time that made him feel worthwhile.

In the face of danger they united as brothers and he had been stupid enough to fall short of the mark. The Colonel was the first one to place trust in him, to respect him for who he is. He was going to make sure that he did his best to honor Hogan's faith in him.

He'd lost his girl over this damn war, he wasn't going to loose the only thing good he'd found in this shambles.

This time he wasn't going to run.

* * *

"Where is he?!" Hogan shouted at the men gathered around him.

In the confines of the tunnels it was the rare and actual silence who answered. Forming a vacuum like presence that seemed to suck the air right out of their breaths. Eyes widened fearfully in mild panic as the truth set in, sparking an avalanche of private thoughts.

"Does anyone know if he's gone out at all?"

"Sir, I haven't seen 'im since last night..." Newkirk quietly admitted.

"What? He wasn't at roll call either? Damn," Hogan swore violently. "Did anyone tell him about tonight's bombing raid?"

Tears were threatening to fall from the Frenchman's eyes as he realized what his commanding officer was implying. "Colonel, I forgot..."

"It's not your fault LeBeau, I should have checked earlier."

The Colonels reply was so distant, so broken that it became clear to the men around him how hopeless this was becoming. With a shaky sigh Robert looked at those around him. They had their eyes lowered to hide from the ranges of grief etched on each face and the few tears staining his crews faces.

"I have to go inform Kinch."

With that he left the Radio room, permitting each man to be alone in their worries and clinging to the slim hope that someone would watch over their friend and brother right now.

* * *

Everyone had heard the first explosion that night, heads hung remorsefully and prayers whispered to God's they thought they had forgotten in the hell that had been introduced to them as war. The Colonel sat subdued in his quarters with the three other grief stricken men. As they heard the bombers approach the tears began to fall. No plan would or could help him now.

* * *

Illuminated by the flames one American stood alone, freed by his success. He would never hear the planes coming as the roar of the fire and the explosion had overwhelmed his senses momentarily. The final thought on his mind would be that he had done his job; he had honored his heroes.


End file.
